it’s too late; Eva is ushering the others swiftly into the den, and he has no choice but to follow with Elliot, or get left behind. “Eva, what the f—”
And then the door shuts behind them.
LIZ
Snoop ID: ANON101
Listening to: Offline
Snoopers: 0
Snoopscribers: 0
As Ani ushers us inside, I feel a twinge of panic. The den is small and dark. The windows are covered with blinds. The only light is coming from the doorway, and from a projection of the Snoop logo being beamed onto a blank wall. The image is bright pink, and it turns the faces of the others a strange, cooked color, like hot ham. I settle myself onto a sofa, and as the door swings softly shut, I feel the atmosphere close around me like a fist.
It is an atmosphere I haven’t felt for nearly three years.
Money. Privilege. Ambition.
The scent of it is as real as Topher’s expensive bespoke cologne, the same brand I used to have to order in from a little Paris perfumery in the rue des Capucines, stammering through his order in my bad schoolgirl French. I can smell it now, though he is over on the other side of the room.
I get a sudden wave of anxiety.
I think I might throw up.
“Tiger,” Eva says, when everyone has found a place to sit. “Would you lead us through a short meditation?”
“Sure!” Tiger says. Her voice is slightly husky. I think she always sounds like that, but it makes me want to clear my own throat. I resist the urge to cough as she looks around the group. “Make yourselves comfortable everyone—whatever that means to you. That could be sitting, leaning, standing, embracing.”
I can’t stop myself from shuddering at the last word, but my reaction is better than the snort of derision I hear from Carl. Eva shoots him a look that could kill, and he covers it by shifting on his floor cushion. The filling inside squeaks and hisses as it resettles.
Tiger closes her eyes.
“Shut your eyes,” she whispers, “and take a moment, everyone, to center yourselves.”
There is silence in the room now. I shut my eyes, but it doesn’t help the feeling of being trapped, in fact if anything it worsens it. I can feel the warmth of Inigo’s shoulder to my left and Rik’s thigh pressing against mine to the right. They can’t help touching me—the sofa is too small for three—but it doesn’t make me feel any less tense. I am sweating. My palms are sticky. My whole body is rigid with discomfort. I do not want to be here. I do not want to be here.
“Take a moment to thank yourself,” Tiger says, her voice low and soft. “Thank your body for bringing you here, your bones for carrying you, your muscles for supporting you, your mind for freeing you.”
I don’t want to thank anyone for this. I want to get out. There is another rustle as Carl shifts uncomfortably, and suddenly I can’t cope with the claustrophobia anymore. I open my eyes a crack, trying to dispel some of the discomfort. I am about to shut them again when I see I’m not the only one peeking. Opposite me, Topher’s eyes open for a moment. He scans the room, trying to figure out what the hell is going on. Our eyes meet. I see you. He raises a single eyebrow. I shut my eyes quickly.
“Take a moment to thank the universe,” Tiger-Blue continues. “For the gift that is your being; for the gift that is your being here; for the gift that is this place, the majesty of the mountains shared with us for just a few days.”
Beside me I can hear Inigo’s breathing. It is fast and shallow. When I glance over it looks like his teeth are gritted, and a muscle is jumping in his cheek. He is hating this as much as me, and clearly he did not know this was happening any more than Topher did. I know from my own PA days how Topher reacts to being out of the loop. Someone is going to get both barrels later. I feel sympathy for Inigo, but my main emotion is relief that it is not going to be me.
“And take a moment to thank Snoop,” Tiger intones. “That thing that we are, and that is bigger than all of us. For all that we are—for all that we have—for bringing people into contact, and music into our lives. For the simple miracles it makes happen every